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...
The door of Dorotte's laboratory thudded shut behind Leylin, the sound reverberating faintly through the damp stone corridor of the Abyssal Bone Forest Academy.
He stepped into the dimness, the air cool and tinged with the faint scent of mildew and lingering spell residue. In his arms, he cradled the stack of books Dorotte had given him—five precious tomes by Magus Estelle, their leather covers worn and warm against his chest.
Abigail coiled snugly around his shoulders, her scales glinting like shards of night in the flickering light of the wall-mounted lanterns. His mind buzzed with the weight of tomorrow's bloodbath, but as he turned the corner, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows, halting his stride.
"Oh.." Leylin suddenly stopped, his attention focused on the person before him, "What a pleasant surprise seeing you here, my dear fellow apprentice Jayden."
Jayden stood there, his grey acolyte robe rumpled, his dark hair falling messily over a forehead creased with tension. His eyes, sharp and stormy, locked onto Leylin with a mix of disgust and simmering hatred—a look Leylin had grown accustomed to over the years. (Image)
Leylin's lips curved into a smug smile, slow and deliberate, as he adjusted the books in his grip. Abigail stirred, slithering upward to peer at Jayden, her serpentine gaze unnervingly human-like—curious, almost mocking. Jayden's scowl deepened, his fists clenching at his sides.
He'd always envied Leylin, a rivalry that had festered since their early days under Dorotte's tutelage. What began as competitive sparring had twisted into something darker, more venomous, as Leylin's talents outshone his own.
Leylin was not only a prodigy in cultivation, his spiritual force surpassing the upper limit for a Level 3 Acolyte, but also a rare alchemical genius, crafting artifacts and runes that left Jayden scrambling to keep pace.
Jayden had been the golden child of their generation, yet Leylin's shadow loomed larger, a constant, galling reminder of his own shortcomings.
"Not going to greet me?" Leylin's voice cut through the silence, smooth and taunting. "So very rude of you."
He stepped forward, arms spreading wide as if to offer an embrace, the books shifting slightly in his grasp. The gesture was theatrical, dripping with mockery.
Jayden recoiled, taking a step back, his anger flaring like a struck match. His lips parted, a retort trembling on the edge, but Leylin cut him off with a laugh a low, rich sound that echoed faintly in the corridor.
"We came from the same place, you know," Leylin said, his tone softening into something deceptively wistful. "I was so saddened by the death of all our friends, Kaliweir, Ryan, others. But it's a relief you're fine."
Jayden snorted, his voice sharp with disdain. "Those weaklings weren't worthy of being my friends. And don't waste your pity on their deaths, you'll soon join them. With your reputation and fame, you're the top target for both rival academies."
Leylin's smile didn't falter, his eyes glinting with unshaken confidence. "I'm sure that's true," he replied breezily, "but I have a feeling there's someone else far more eager for my downfall."
He tilted his head, studying Jayden with a predator's curiosity. "I can see you're still chasing my shadow, aren't you?"
Jayden's jaw tightened, his retort swift and biting. "You wish. I'm a Level 3 acolyte now too."
Leylin's laughter rang out again, sharp and unrestrained. "Aren't you? So quick, so fast! A wonder, really, reaching Level 3 at the tender age of seventeen. But what's this?" He leaned closer, nostrils flaring as if catching a scent on the air. "I can smell the stench of potions leaking from you. Tell me, which family's dog are you now?"
The barb struck deep, and Jayden's face flushed with fury. He'd pledged himself to a Magus family for resources a desperate bid to close the gap with Leylin knowing it had disappointed Dorotte, though their mentor had remained silent, respecting each acolyte's chosen path.
Jayden's hands trembled, words failing him as his resolve hardened. The bloodbath tomorrow would be his chance to settle this, to bury Leylin once and for all. With a cold, venomous stare, he refused to engage further, brushing past Leylin with a stiff shoulder.
Leylin's gaze followed him, the smug smile lingering as his eyes turned icy, a savage glint flickering within them.
Abigail slithered closer, her tongue brushing his ear as she hissed softly in Parseltongue. "Yes, yes, my dear," Leylin murmured, his voice a soothing purr. "His struggles are very interesting."
He licked his lips, a fleeting, feral gesture, and watched Jayden's retreating figure. The boy's recent breakthrough to Level 3 was laughable barely scraping the threshold while Leylin stood at the peak, his physical prowess honed in Extreme Night City rendering most acolytes beneath him insignificant.
"Tomorrow," he thought, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest, "I'll let you taste true despair. You think I'm the prey? Heh…"
He turned and strode forward, thinking about his Branded Swordsman experiments, Jayden reduced to a fleeting amusement in his mind a gnat buzzing around a lion.(image)
....
The sky above the Abyssal Bone Forest Academy hung heavy with a patchwork of grey clouds, their edges frayed and brooding. A light drizzle fell intermittently, misting the air and leaving a sheen on the wild grasses that sprawled across the open field. (Image)
The dampness seeped into the grey robes of the acolytes gathered there, their faces etched with solemnity or vacant dread, eyes glinting with vicious intent or hollow resignation.
The silence was oppressive, broken only by the rustle of wind through the undergrowth and the distant patter of rain.
Leylin stood at the forefront, his posture relaxed yet commanding, he has left Abigail safely coiled in his dorm, she'd be a liability in the ruthless crucible of the bloodbath.
Around him clustered the academy's finest: Merlin, the potioneering prodigy under Professor Kroft, his fingers stained with reagent residue; Fayle, a genius tethered to the Redbud Family, his robe adorned with their subtle crest; and Jayden, lingering just behind, his face a stormcloud of gloom as he shot Leylin a venomous glance.
Before them loomed the official Magi, their black and white robes stark against the muted landscape. At their head stood a towering figure in black—
Chairman Siley, the academy's leader, a Rank 2 Magus whose very presence radiated strands of energy that pressed against Leylin's spiritual force, slowing its flow like molasses. (Image)
Dorotte had warned him of Siley's power, a Dark Magus whose combat prowess outstripped most of his peers.
He surveyed the field, its eerie stillness amplifying the tension. Under the dim sky, the usual scurry of rodents and lizards had vanished, as if sensing the impending carnage. The air felt thick, heavy with the promise of violence.
"They're here! They're here!" A ripple of murmurs broke the silence, heads turning toward the horizon. Leylin inhaled deeply, the damp air cool in his lungs, and lifted his gaze.
A black speck appeared in the distance, growing larger as it approached with deliberate speed. As it neared, its form resolved into a monstrous sight an Abyss Steeled-Back Beetle, its eight sturdy legs each stretching over a dozen meters, its tiny head crowned with compound eyes that glittered menacingly. The ground trembled faintly under its weight as it halted before the academy's ranks. (Image)
Sssii! A few drops of yellowish-green saliva dripped from its maw, sizzling as they corroded pits into the earth. The surrounding acolytes flinched, their faces paling, a collective gasp escaping their lips. Leylin remained still, his expression unreadable, though his pulse quickened at the creature's raw power.
"What are you afraid of?" Siley's voice boomed, cutting through the panic. "It's just an Abyss Steeled-Back Beetle!"
"Silence!" another professor snapped, and the acolytes steadied themselves, their fear subsiding into uneasy murmurs.
A crisp laugh rang out as a white-robed, middle-aged Magus leapt from the beetle's back. His brows were snow-white despite his youthful face, a striking contrast to his sharp features. (Image)
"Siley, your acolytes were frightened by my baby," he taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Their predicament doesn't look promising! Hahaha…"
Siley's bald head gleamed as he harrumphed, his displeasure palpable.
"Wu! Arghh!" Frightened cries erupted from the beetle's back, young voices, likely its passengers drawing a furious glare from the white-browed Magus.
His brows flushed red, as if blood might spill from them. "Siley, you actually—"
"How is it?" Siley stepped forward, his tone overbearing, cutting off the protest. Leylin's lips twitched faintly Dorotte had mentioned this rival, White-Brows Guru, chairman of Sage Gotham's Hut. A Rank 2 Magus, yes, but Siley's mastery of Dark Magic gave him the edge in combat.
Just as the tension threatened to boil over, a whizzing sound pierced the sky. A massive horse-drawn carriage, its wings of snow-white feathers spanning dozens of meters, descended gracefully, guided by condors circling above. (Image)
Bang! It landed with a thud, the door swinging open to reveal a golden-haired woman in white robes, her presence radiating authority. (Image)
"Guru, stop!" she called, her voice firm. "Don't forget our agreement."
Siley and Guru exchanged scowls but retreated to their groups, the standoff defused. Acolytes spilled from the carriage behind her, their energy waves pulsing strongly, while Guru's beetle folded its legs into steps, disgorging its own contingent.
Both rival factions eyed the Abyssal Bone Forest camp with predatory menace, their gazes raking over Leylin and his peers like hunters sizing up prey.
Siley's face darkened at Guru's parting sneer, "I hope your acolytes survive, Siley. Don't let your academy become a true graveyard…"—but he waved a hand dismissively.
"Enough nonsense. Let's begin!"
"Since you're so eager, how could we refuse?" Guru and the golden-haired woman smirked, nodding in unison.
"Let us begin!"
The official Magi stepped forward, retrieving oddities from sacks, robes, even their own bodies crystals, bones, vials of shimmering liquid arranging them into a sprawling formation on the ground. When they finished, a complex array of runes pulsed faintly, its lines etched in silvery light.
Leylin's eyes flashed with recognition, as he traced the patterns. "The Kael'thrun runes," he thought, "derived from the Netheril Codex, an ancient script of dimensional binding. And there, the Vyris glyphs, tied to the Soulweave traditions of the Third Plane. This is a gate array, stable but volatile if mishandled."
The three chairmen advanced, each withdrawing a crimson scroll. Siley's voice rose first, resonant and commanding.
"With my name, Siley, I summon the Will of Battle roving the wilderness, and activate the glorious and deathly flight of stairs…"
Together, they tore the scrolls apart, the air crackling with unleashed power as the formation flared to life.